


The Ballerina

by Tilltheendwilliwrite



Series: Steve Rogers: One Shots and Reader Inserts [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Smut, тэг заменён на Don't copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 08:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17056046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tilltheendwilliwrite/pseuds/Tilltheendwilliwrite
Summary: Steve has a crush, but Mac has a secret. When he finds out what it is, it only makes him want her more.Music mentioned in order of appearance:Various Storms and Saints by Florence and The MachineCome Away with Me by Nora JonesMake You Feel My Love by Adele (a Bob Dylan cover)





	The Ballerina

 

* * *

Since the moment she had joined the team, Captain Steve Rogers had not been able to take his eyes off the svelte figure of MacKenzie - Mac - Colter. She was of average height, a willow-thin woman that moved as if she floated over the ground, but she wasn’t a waif, paper thin and sickly. She was sleek and powerful, graceful as a lioness and twice as deadly when it came to sparring of the verbal kind.

The riot of antique golden waves that seemed impossible to tame and fell around her shoulders only added to the image, and her large, dark eyes, the colour of whiskey, were always laughing. More often than not they were laughing at him, but Steve didn’t mind.

She was sweet and witty, kind but tough, and had come on-board as the government liaison when the Sokovian Accords had crashed and burned. And, she kicked paper pusher ass at her job. He’d watched her dress down politicians, presidents, and in one case a prince, and do so in each of their respective languages. All had backed down, impressed and a tad intimidated, giving in readily to her demands.

Fury had found her somewhere. Just where Steve couldn’t have said, but she was mildly enhanced, an inhuman whose life had changed irrevocably a few years ago. What that life had been before her arrival Mac had always refused to speak about and, after the one and only time he’d asked, causing pain and sorrow to fill her eyes, Steve had quickly pulled her into a tight hug and told her not to fret. She could talk or not, whatever she liked. The way her body had relaxed with his assurance that he wouldn’t push for answers had confirmed he’d made the right decision. They all had secrets. She could keep hers as long as it didn’t interfere with the team.

That had been months ago, and Mac had slipped seamlessly into the intricate workings of the group easily. Her sweet nature saw she made friends with all of them, even Bucky whose personality was not the best and who still struggled to be part of the world again. Mac had taken one look at his best friend upon meeting Buck the first time, grabbed him by the hand - the metal one - and led Bucky to the farthest corner of the room where they had sat sequestered for a good forty-five minutes, in which time Mac had done nearly all the talking. Bucky had nodded slowly, commented a few times, stood to his feet and shocked the heck out of Steve when he’d hugged her. What they’d talked about, to this day he still didn’t know, but he would never be able to thank her for whatever it was she’d said for, after that day, Bucky had progressively gotten better.

Steve was pretty sure he was, if not completely head over heels for her, then he was at least half way there, and people had started to comment. Bucky, the jerk, constantly teased and jabbed at him, something he didn’t begrudge the former Winter Soldier as it was just so damn nice to have that man back. But Sam’s less than subtle innuendos were starting to get on his nerves.

It was for that reason he was up, hair rumpled from his fingers being thrust through it, jeans slung low on his hips, walking barefoot through the corridors of the compound at just shy of one in the morning. Sam’s jabs had hit a little too close to home and had him losing sleep.

The weekly poker night between himself, Sam, Bucky, Clint and Vision had become something of a boys night, including Tony, Bruce and Scott when they were around. The girls tended to go off and do girl things those nights, movies and beauty things he knew nothing about, while the boys drank and gambled.

It had started out innocent enough. A comment by Clint about having seen Mac talking rather _closely_ with Tim from logistics - looking cozy and flirty according to the archer - had set Sam off, causing him to give Steve grief for missing his opportunity with Mac and now she was eyeing up her own prey. Bucky had come to his defence, like always, boasting that Tim was a twig that he, Steve, could easily snap in half should he wish it.

But his own reply had been much less… aggressive. There was no point in making assumptions on anything until Mac stated with her own mouth that she was seeing this… Tim.

Still, it had thrown Steve off his game enough to be down fifty bucks to Sam because he’d stopped paying attention to the cards in his hand and on the table. The game had ended early after that, and the others had all wandered off to their own rooms while he had stayed to stew in the misery of his own making. Unable to sleep, he’d taken from a private, secret drawer in his desk the sketchbook he’d only begun to get back into.

At one time, art had been his escape from reality. The reality of his small stature. The reality of the war. The reality of his mother’s death. The reality of Bucky’s leaving. But, once he’d become _Captain America,_ there had been no time for the pencil and charcoal drawings that soothed his raged, anxious soul. He’d put it all away until recently. Until Mac.

The book beneath his arm was filled with pictures of her. Laughing. Smiling. Angry. Frustrated. Happy. Sad. Contemplative. Her face covered the pages. Sure there were pictures of the others as well. Nat in a casual pose against the arm of a chair. Clint perched with his bow. Tony, arms crossed and eyes lost in thought. There was one of Thor laughing, another of Peter smiling, and one of Sam’s smug, too proud face. Bucky filled the pages as well, but it was hard for him to reconcile the Bucky he remembered with the new one. Today’s Bucky was the same, yet, somehow, different and he just… he couldn’t get the eyes right.

As he was, now, in a pensive mood, Steve decided working through it with his hands was likely to be the most therapeutic and had wandered off to find a place that felt right to lose himself in his art. It had him walking the corridors until he’d found himself outside the one door he’d never been invited inside.

They each had their own spaces, not just the suites they lived in but rooms within the compound that had become…unconsciously _theirs_. Bucky liked the music room for the piano gave him peace and helped him remember the past. Nat was often on the gun range, finding balance behind the target practice. Sam liked the forest behind the compound where the golden eagles nested. Clint’s was the rafters when he wanted to be alone. Wanda and Vision claimed the kitchen and often filled the hallways with delectable smells. Tony had his workroom and Steve liked the big open lounge with all the windows for the natural light was excellent though it was often too crowded.

But this room, the one with the slightly ajar door, had been created and explicitly refurbished for Mac and while he figured either Tony or Fury knew what secrets it held, the rest of them were not privy to such details. The door was always locked and no one, as far as he knew, was allowed inside. However, the four-inch gap gave Steve not only get a glimpse of the interior but the ability to also hear the music that poured quietly from the stereo.

The tune was slow, almost… _ethereal_ with the unearthly voice that was singing. The woman sounded like a combination of a fairy and a fury. Mystical beauty and sultry heat. Soft guitars and other stringed instruments accompanied the singer. And the quiet words poured forth, sometimes soft. Sometimes forceful.

_…you got a hold on me… and I don’t know how I don’t just stand outside and scream… I am teaching myself how to be free…_

He was drawn closer, the curiosity undeniable. Drawn to peer through that gap and inhaled with force when he found Mac. She wore a bodysuit, sleeveless, cut high on her hips in a sapphire blue that turned her lioness mane into burnished caramel gold. A skirt a shade lighter and made of fairy wings, all flowing gossamer fabric, fluttered in gentle movements around her hips and upper thighs. Her gorgeous long legs were bare, coated only in a sheen of sweat, the same sheen that glistened on her face and caused tendrils of her upswept hair to stick to her swan-like neck and bared upper shoulders. But it was the wall of mirrors, the hardwood floors, the long wooden barre, and the soft pink ballet shoes on her feet that took him by surprise.

_‘A dancer_.’ She had been a dancer before her time with them. A ballerina if the graceful hands and turned out feet, the long limbs and sultry movements were anything to go by. Her back was a sleek line that flowed into curved buttocks, and he had his sketchbook open in a heartbeat.

… _you saw the stars out in front of you… too tempting not to touch… but even though it shocked you… something’s electric in your blood…_

His pencil fairly flew across the page as he followed her graceful dips and arcs, the stretch and flex of limbs, the lift of a slender, muscle toned leg to the ceiling. Her back arched as she leapt with abandon and had his breath catching in his throat.

_…But still you stumble, feet give way… outside the world seems a violent place… but you had to have him, and so you did…_

She was grace and beauty personified. A sleek feline inside a woman’s body that could make him think very dangerous, very dirty thoughts about core strength and flexibility. And then, as he watched with bated breath, she pushed up onto the tips of those pink satin shoes and spun across the floor on the ends of her toes.

… _I know you’re bleeding, but you’ll be okay…hold on to your heart, you’ll keep it safe… hold on to your heart, don’t give it away…_

The music tugged at him, and the story she told with her movements made his chest ache. It was sad, filled with pain and loss and anger, but spoke of finding the strength inside to keep going, to keep moving forward. It made him wonder at the choice. At what memory was haunting her tonight to pick such a piece of music to dance to.

_…but still you stumble, feet give way… outside the world seems a violent place… but you had to have him, and so you did… some things you let go in order to live…_

He wasn’t sure if he’d moved or perhaps made a sound, but her incredible movements came to a sudden halt as her eyes snapped to his in the mirror. Colour flushed her face, heightened across her cheeks, and he nearly blushed in return. But, what was there to be embarrassed about? She was poetry in motion, beautiful, and he shifted his shoulder into the doorframe, leaning against it as he pushed the door fully open. “Don’t let me interrupt,” he murmured quietly.

Her hands closed into fists before they relaxed at her sides. “Captain. I did not think anyone was still up.”

She only ever called him _Captain_ in that cool, princess voice when he’d annoyed or disconcerted her and made him smile gently. Her eyes darted to the door, and he knew she was cursing herself for not closing it. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d do something productive.” He motioned with the sketch pad now closed in his hand.

“And that led you to this room? Why?” She stalked towards the stereo system and turned the music off, dousing them in silence.

“I was just walking, sorting through some stuff, and heard the music. It was beautiful,” as was she. “What was it?” 

Sighing softly, Mac trailed her fingers across the speakers. “Florence and the Machine. I don’t think you or Bucky have gotten to them yet.”

Nodding, Steve gave her a small smile. It wasn’t uncommon to be handed a list of _things one must know, watch, listen to_ , by another teammate. “She may have to jump to the top of my list,” he murmured, watching Mac fidget around the room. She drank from her water bottle, towelled her face, slung her leg up on the barre to stretch and did everything in her power not to look at him.

“That… that’s good. I bet you’ll like them,” Mac murmured.

Sliding cautiously through the door, Steve leaned against the wall. He couldn’t help but ask, “Why would you hide this, Mac? You’re beautiful.” She flinched, hard, as if he’d struck her a physical blow and had him dropping his sketchbook on the floor with a soft thud.

He could see her take a deep breath, almost as if whatever she was about to say pained her greatly before she straightened up, her leg still stretched long down the barre and toe pointed. She looked at him in the mirror as she spoke.

“It's… too painful to share with another but… it’s impossible to let go.”

Devastation filled her eyes before they dropped from his. “Would you… do you…” he cleared his throat, heart beating hard in it, and finally managed to say, “Do you want to talk about it? I mean, I’m kind of in the know now.”

Sighing, she removed her foot from the barre and gave her leg a shake. The long leg with the wealth of muscle he hadn’t realized had been hiding beneath her suit pants and skirts. Shaking out the other, he watched her do little exercises. Point her toes. Flex her knees. Bring her arm up over her head. All while watching her bite at her lip, her eyes shadowed and brow furrowed as she thought about what she wanted to say.

“I was a dancer… clearly,” Mac murmured, continuing her exercise, her eyes misting over with memories. “A good one. On the way to be the principal ballerina of my company. I was young and cocky. I thought I was invincible. Then, it all changed. I changed. It started slowly at first. I would know… things about my colleagues that, perhaps I should not have. Languages I never studied would simply appear in my head, and I would know them, speak them fluently, and sway people to my way of thinking using just my words.”

She went up on her toes again, picking and placing her feet in quick little motions, neat flicks of her toes. “What happened?”

“I got… _fresh_ with my new found abilities. Started using them when it was unnecessary. Twist this corps dancer’s thoughts to try out for a different part because I thought she would upstage me. Influence the director to cast me as lead when the current principal was better suited.”

She looked up, a flush colouring her face and shame in her eyes but he didn’t judge. She’d been young, handed a burden and abilities she couldn’t possibly understand the consequences of and had run a little wild. “We’ve all been there, Mac.”

“Even you, Captain? The great and honourable Steve Rogers used his abilities to further his own agenda? I highly doubt that.” She shook her head in disbelief.

Reaching out, Steve quietly shut the door. “We all have demons, doll. I did things… stupid, selfish, foolish things during the war. I’ve done things since. Some for the greater good, others…” He shrugged. When the winter soldier thing had come to light, he had done a lot of selfish things going after Bucky. Sure it had helped his friend clear his name but… when he thought hard about the risks and sacrifices made, he’d done a lot of it strictly because he wanted his best friend back. He was tired of being alone.

Mirroring his shrug, Mac swept her leg up into an arabesque. “In the course of my meddling, I made enemies, lots of them.” He stiffened, and she smiled. “Not that kind, soldier. At ease. Ballet dancers, principals especially, always have some up and comer looking to usurp them. I was no different.”

Again her eyes turned sad, and he jerked his mind from seriously flexible legs. “What happened?”

“My partner… he was my lover at the time. I was too self-absorbed to see that he had lost interest in me, had taken up with a new dancer. We stopped sleeping together, and I was so wrapped up in the dance and being the best that I did not notice she had turned him against me.” Again she gave a great sigh. “One day during rehearsal we were slated to do a lift. When your partner is six feet plus tall and pushes you eight or so feet in the air, there needs to be a fair amount of trust. I trusted him…”

Her voice softened, strained with her memories, and Steve started across the floor towards her as she spun back to the barre and gripped it tightly. “Tell me.” He needed to know, to hear just how badly it had gone so he could understand her better. Needed it like oxygen so he could keep breathing.

“It was simple really. A high lift,” her hand landed on her hip, “Supported here where I was held above Reynauld by a single hand. We had done it… a hundred times, maybe more. After he swore it was an accident, fatigue from too many long days, but I saw it in his eyes, felt it through his touch.” Her head lifted just enough to lock eyes with his in the mirror. “He dropped me.”

Steve, unable to not touch her and offer some sort of comfort, condolence, or care, gently place his hand over hers on her hip. “I am, so sorry, Mac.”

Nodding, she swallowed rather hard before continuing. “I went straight down, landed head first. Head, shoulder, knee. It was the knee that did me in. Tore… everything. Shattered bone. There was no coming back from it, not professionally. But the worst part was seeing my understudy, his new lover, smirk at me before the concussion caused me to pass out. They’d planned it together.”

“Damn, Mac. I hope you said something!” Her eyes blazed a dark rich gold, boring into his through her reflection.

“And say what? That I knew they had planned it because I could read his mind? I deserved it, Steve! Instead of working harder, getting better and earning my place, I cheated. I cut corners and manipulated outcomes and hurt who knows how many people in the process.”

Tightening his hand on her waist, he slapped the other one to the opposite side and spun her around. In the back of his mind, he catalogued how she’d gone up on her toes, an instinctive reaction, that had her spinning easily to face him. He could feel the tightness of her core and the strength beneath his palms but pushed it aside in lieu of snarling, “That still doesn’t give them the right to _hurt_ you, Mac! They permanently ended your career!”

“And now I have a new one!” she barked back. “I like my job, Steve. I _love it_ here! It’s challenging and exciting and having been a dancer I’ve got the backbone to stand up to these people. My abilities are an asset here when they would have been a burden there. Selfish thoughts are the same the world over, and while I don’t manipulate outcomes like I used to, knowing the slippery slope that can lead us down, I can find the deepest desires and the darkest regrets of people and help soften their burdens. I am good at this,” Mac murmured, calming as the tirade slowed. “And yes, I miss dancing but it’s nothing to come in here, turn on the music, and remember. And when I walk out that door, I go back to being Mac the liaison and leave Mackenzie the ballerina… behind.”

Sighing softly, Steve found with her on her toes she was nearly the same height as him. At least, her mouth was very close, and he dropped his eyes to it. “Is that what you did for Bucky? Soften his burdens?”

“Yes,” she whispered, hands resting on his biceps and eyes on his mouth. “He had… fears that were unwarranted and believed falsehoods about himself. I just… assured him that those things were non-issues with the others.” She fidgeted slightly before murmuring, “I don’t use my powers with the team. It's… an invasion of privacy but Bucky was so… broken.”

Her eyes were dark with concern, but he wasn’t worried. “What are mine?” he murmured. “Tell me my biggest regrets.” She looked deep into his eyes again, searching, seeking something he wasn’t privy to. He wasn’t even sure she would do it until her hands glided up his arms to gently cup his face, thumbs brushing softly along his cheekbones. It nearly made him quake with how much he wanted her.

“Bucky… his fall.” She peered at him until Steve had to turn his eyes away. “That was not your fault. You could not have saved him, and you could not have known he would survive that fall.”

He knew that, truly he did, but knowing and forgiving were two very different things. “I should have…” Warmth filled him like a golden glow and had his eyes snapping back to hers.

“No, you shouldn’t have.” She searched his eyes some more, a little frown on her face. “And… Peggy. You missed your dance.”

“Yeah. Stupid.” Again he looked away and was pulled back by soft hands and a gentle touch.

Another deep search of her eyes had his hands loosening on her waist when she spoke again. “It’s been years since I danced with a partner.” Pulling out of his lax hold, she made her way to the stereo system, pressing buttons on her phone to change to different music. The ribbons on her ballet shoes fluttered loose, and she slipped them from her feet. “I may not be your Peggy, but… could I have this dance, Captain Rogers?”

She turned back and her eyes, those bright, calm, beautiful eyes held him in her thrall. Music poured from the speakers, soft, sexy music that stirred his blood. It was unknown to him, but it was a slow jazz, something he could have heard in the forties, something he would have danced with Peggy to, but… this wasn’t Peggy. This was Mac. He could not compare one to the other. It just wasn’t possible. When he held out his hand, she returned to his arms, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floors; a match for his own.

_…come away with me in the night… come away with me, and I will write… you a song…_

Her fingers - long, graceful - closed over the edge of his palm, warm and strong. He took her by the waist, she traced her hand over his shoulder, and he brought her firmly into his body. Slowly, he swayed, getting the feel of the woman in his arms, the music, and the tempo. He wasn’t Bucky by any means, but he wasn’t about to embarrass himself when he stepped into the flowing lines of a waltz. Her eyes darted up, a smile pulling at her mouth before she closed her them and gave herself over to him and the music.

… _I want to walk with you… on a cloudy day… in fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high so won’t you try to come… come away with me, and we’ll kiss… on a mountaintop… come away with me, and I’ll never stop loving you…_

Soon, her hand had shifted up, along the expanse of his shoulder to wrap tenderly at his nape, making him sigh at the contact when her nails lightly scraped the skin and the short hairs at the back of his neck. Drawing his hand into his chest, he placed the back of hers over his heart and slowed his steps until they were back to the gentle sway and rock they had started in. His heart beat hard in beneath their joined hands, and when her head descended to rest against his shoulder, he was certain she would be able to hear the rapid thudding.

… _and I want to wake up with the rain falling on a tin roof… while I’m safe there in your arms, so all I ask is for you… to come away with me in the night… come away with me._

The music ended, and he continued to sway with her, unwilling to let the dance end. It was too short. He hadn’t had enough time. He needed more. He’d lost so much already. “Peggy,” spilled from his lips and Steve froze. “Mac! I… I… I don’t know why-” her fingers were suddenly pressing against his lips, stopping any further mortified stuttering from coming out. She patted his chest and stepped out of his arms to walk back towards the stereo. A few quick clicks on her cell phone, and she returned to him, sliding her hands up and twining her arms behind his neck. “Mac I… I don’t…”

“Steve… that was Peggy’s dance… this one is mine,” she whispered.

Stunned, he watched her smile gently, heart in her eyes before her head settled back on his chest. It took a moment for his hands to find her waist as the music washed over him. Soft guitar and quiet female voice had him laying his cheek on the top of her head.

… _when the rain is blowing in your face… and the whole world is on your case… I could offer you a warm embrace… to make you feel my love… when the evening shadows and the stars appear… and there is no one there to dry your tears… I will hold you for a million years to make you feel my love_ …

The words of the song hit him, and he inhaled hard. Did she know? Could she? Had she looked so deep that she’d found the secret he’d been keeping in his heart. “Mac?”

“Yes, Captain?”

_…I know you haven’t made your mind up yet… but I will never do you wrong… I’ve known it from the moment that we met… no doubt in my mind where you belong… I’d go hungry; I’d go black and blue… and I’d go crawling down the avenue… no, there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do to make you feel my love…_

The words stuck in his throat when his title rolled off her tongue. It was said with a distinct edge of cheek, a smile in her voice, a wealth of affection and he finally had to ask, “Are you seeing Tim from logistics?”

… _the storms are raging on the rolling sea… and on the highway of regret… the winds of change are blowing wild and free… you ain’t seen nothing like me yet… I could make you happy, make your dreams come true… there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do… go to the ends of the Earth for you… to make you feel my love… to make you feel my love…_

She chuckled softly before turning her face up to his. Laughter danced in her eyes, brimming with more emotion than he’d seen even just moments ago before she shook her head. “No. _Why ever_ would you think I was?”

“Sassy dame,” he grumbled as the music ended a second time and returned them to silence. “How much more did you see in there?” He gave his temple a tap with the hand he removed from her waist. Her cheeky smirk softened into something akin to regret.

“Deepest desires and darkest regrets are often buried the farthest down. I try not to… _see_ everything but… yours are kind of… intertwined.”

Her arms loosened but he caught them before they fell completely from his shoulders. Her skin was so soft and smooth beneath his fingers, he passed a feather-light caress down the toned flesh and watched her shiver. Her eyes darkened, a flush crept across her cheeks, but it was the lip she pulled between her teeth that he focused on. When she let it go, glistening and plump from worrying at it, Steve gave a wicked groan and bent towards her. “Tell me now if you don’t want this.”

“I want this,” Mac whispered, lifting up on her toes to meet him halfway.

The first press was gentle, exploratory as he learned the shape of her lips, the contour, and the feel. They were like velvet, whispering softly against his own. “Mac,” he murmured and dragged her bodily into him. The connection of thighs, hips, abdominals, and chest set him groaning.

Hands wandered as he stroked his tongue over her bottom lip and twined them together. Her hands had thoroughly messed his hair, and his had made their way down to her tight, perfect ass where he gripped it tightly. Breaking away only so he could take a ragged breath, Steve stared down into her flushed face as a dangerous smile spread upon it. “What?”

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” she answered, and he could tell it was an honest one.

“So why didn’t you?” he questioned. A flash of pain crossed her features.

“My last lover destroyed me, Steve. It’s enough to make anyone a little reluctant to dip their toe in the dating pool again. Plus, you’re you. Captain America. Those are some pretty high standards to hold a girl up against.”

He shook his head slowly. “I told you, doll. We’ve all got our demons, even me.” Brushing a loose tendril of hair back behind her ear, he murmured, “Don’t ever think you’ve got to measure yourself against me.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve seen what goes on in that head of yours. Such fantasies, Captain.” Her grin, if possible, got even wider. “Never been with a dancer?”

He tried very hard not to blush. “No.” The truth was he’d only ever been with Sharon and that had ended a long time ago. Her leg was suddenly wrapping his hip, and he looked down to see her manic smile. “Mac, what?”

“Hush,” she whispered, holding tight to his shirt.

Slowly, her leg slid up, crept up, got higher, until her calf rested on his shoulder and she was grinning like the cat who’d ate the canary at how hard he was breathing. “Wow…” He couldn’t even hope to sound smooth, not after that demonstration.

“You wouldn’t believe just how… _flexible_ a dancer needs to be.”

“Damn, doll face,” he murmured, dragging his fingers up that long expanse of thigh. Her fingers traced trails of warmth through his t-shirt over his chest as her leg skimmed back down his arm, hooking at his elbow and that shit-eating grin from before returned to her face.

“You’d make an excellent dancer, Captain. So strong and graceful. Your partner would never have to fear for her safety.”

Laughter dance with heat in her eyes and Steve smiled. “Is that so?”

“Most certainly,” she purred softly, her fingers kneading a little firmer over his pectorals.

Smirking his own little grin, Steve bent at the knees to wrap his free arm beneath her pert buttocks and lifted her straight up. Mac gasped softly, her hands suddenly digging into his shoulders when she scrambled for purchase, her eyes shooting wide. But it wasn’t fear he saw there. It was desire and excitement, and now with one leg draped over his shoulder and the other held captive against his chest, Steve smiled and without looking away, pressed a kiss to her inner thigh up close to her center. The sound she made, half wanton groan half purr of pleasure made him growl, “I’d never drop a perfect dame like you, Mac.”

Her fingers made their way to his scalp, scratching gently and tugging at his hair until he tilted his head back to see her clearly. “Steve,” she whispered, a flush darkening her face. “Please…”

Soft voice, nearly pleading, and he kissed her thigh again when she released his hair. Nibbling on the smooth skin, he made his way towards the narrow swatch of fabric that hid her from him, taking his time to properly lick and worship the flesh near his mouth. When he got close enough that his breath ruffled the gossamer fabric of her skirt, her hands were there, tugging, jerking the elastic waistband up and over her head, leaving her in nothing but the sapphire body suit.

Gently, reverently, Steve drew his nose over the cloth against her mound, the narrow strip already musky and damp with her arousal. The leotard was tight and pressed up against her soft folds snuggly. Shifting both hands to her delectable ass, he tilted her hips closer and licked lightly at the swollen flesh. A soft mewl escaped her lips, her fingers tightened on his hair, and a rush of fluid dampened the cloth further. “Look at you. So responsive. Does this turn you on, baby?”

“Yes!” she groaned. “You’re so strong! Not even a quiver of strain. That’s so damn sexy.”

Steve couldn’t help but grin and place a gentle kiss on her core. Her whimper was soft when he pressed his tongue firmly to the rapidly spreading wetness. She tasted of musk and woman, sweet with a tang of salt. Her heat was scorching and when the fabric was fully saturated, the delicate folds and swollen bud of her arousal easy to see, Steve closed his lips over the tiny jewel and suckled gently.

Her hands clenched in his hair, her groan like music to his ears, and he squeezed and massaged her buttocks while she moaned and whined and rocked her hips into his face. Unintelligible half sentences and hastily groaned foreign words sprang from her lips in rapid succession. But it wasn’t enough.

Striding across the room, Steve kissed her core one more time, tugging that tiny bud, before lowering her gently back to her feet. Mac’s knees wobbled, and he was quick to steady her, his hands to her hips. “I want this, baby. Really, really bad, but I need to get you out of that suit. Suit off, Mac.”

A soft laugh left her lips as her hands pulled the straps over her shoulders. “Aren’t you the one telling everyone to _suit up_ , Cap?”

It skimmed down her body, baring everything before him and Steve groaned. “For you, it will always be suit off.” She was a vision. Long flowing lines, soft skin, smaller breasts that his whole hand could cover, but her nipples were large and prominent, and he wanted to taste one badly.

Palming a breast, he watched sapphire fabric pool at her feet. “I’m going to kiss you now, and when I’m done, I’m going to drop to my knees and kiss your other lips until you scream my name.”

“Oh god…” she whimpered, her head falling back against the mirror.

A grin again flirted with his lips when Steve lowered his head and took her mouth in the way he’d always imagined. She tasted of lemons from her bottle of water, tart but still oh so delicious as he licked and then sucked her lip between his teeth. Another wanton little groan became a gasp when his thumb and forefinger plucked her berry of a nipple, and he slipped his tongue swiftly into her mouth to explore and learn all he could.

Her tongue was silky and slid against his, tangled, twined, and danced in the same way she had been but minutes ago. Her body undulated up rolled into his, and Steve groaned. Breaking from her lips, he worked his way down her throat, over her chest, suckled the dark bud, plucking and biting gently when she gasped and moaned his name. His hands drifted to her hips, down her thighs as he kissed and sucked his way over her flat abdomen. Wrapping his hands beneath her buttocks, he lifted her up and perched her on the edge of the barre she’d been using, spreading her thighs open in the process, and getting his first look at smooth bare mound and glistening lips.

Settling to his knees, Steve was careful to make sure she stayed balanced, using the time to kiss his way leisurely up the thigh he’d neglected earlier and smiled when her hands returned to his hair. They didn’t need words for when he looked up he could see the longing and the need residing in her eyes, written on her face, and leaned forward to slowly draw his tongue up her weeping core.

“Fuck!” squeaked from Mac and made him chuckle.

“Language, doll face.” He couldn’t help but tease before licking her again.

Panting, Mac tugged at his hair. “Don’t stop, Steve.”

“Whatever you say, baby.” Grinning, he settled in and began to learn all the things that pleased her. When sucking on her lips made her moan, he did it again. A thrust of his tongue into her tight passage caused her legs to quiver. Flicking the tiny jewel at the top of her opening made her cry out in clear delight. She liked her thighs to be kneaded and squeezed, his teeth pressing gently into the flesh of her mound. But most of all when he pulled her lips apart with his thumbs, baring her completely to his mercy, and set about attending to her bundle of nerves.

“Please, oh please!” she begged and tugged firmly to hold him where she wanted him.

Pressing a hand firmly against her abdomen, Steve slid a finger inside her fluttering walls and closed his lips around her swollen little bud, suckling strongly as he slowly curled his digit against her walls. A half dozen thrusts, a few solid pulls, and one good hard flick of his tongue had her keening over into bliss and crying his name.

Drawing his finger from her only once the rapid squeezing stopped, he placed it in his mouth and sucked it clean of the cream she’d gifted him. Groaning at how delicious she was, Steve slowly lowered his tongue to her lips, careful of her sensitivity to catch more of that amazing taste.

“Steve… no more,” she groaned, tugging on his hair. “I want you.”

The eyes of a well-pleasured woman looked back at him, and he rose steadily to his feet. “You sure, doll? I don’t want to rush you.” He would be fine if she wanted to wait. “We could go out, you know, on a date if you want before going any further.”

Her eyes widened before she snickered, “I’m naked, propped on the edge of my barre, and you want to talk about _dates_?” A heftier giggle escaped before her hands were tearing at the button on his jeans. “Suit off, Cap. You can take me to dinner later.”

Grinning, Steve stripped the t-shirt over his head, chucking it somewhere behind him, while keeping his thigh between hers, helping hold her up against the mirror. His jeans hit the floor, and he was quick to thrust his boxers down his legs, letting his hard cock spring free and bounce slightly, as eager as he was to get inside her. Her hand closing around the turgid length was enough to have his mouth falling open on a desperate groan. “Don’t suppose you have condoms in here?”

Giving him a few firm strokes, Mac murmured, “I’m clean and on something. Haven’t had sex in,” she shook her head, “Too long, so as long as you trust me, Steve, we’re good because I trust you.”

Her whiskey eyes held promises of sinful pleasure. “You sure?”

“You keep asking me that I’m going to think _you_ don’t want this,” Mac chuckled.

“I just…” Her hand at his neck pulled his head down, and her lips gently covered his own. Slow, gentle kisses mixed with her dexterous, teasing fingers, had him gripping her hips a little tighter.

When she finally pulled back, Mac was smiling, and her hand had shifted to tenderly cup his cheek. “I know, Steve. I know this is backwards from how you’d normally go about seeing a woman, but I don’t want you to stop. I want this. I want _you_. Not Tim from logistics, not Bucky, or Sam, or Tony, not anyone else. You.”

He slipped his hands beneath her thighs, under to cup her buttocks and lifted her just enough to tilt her hips. “I want you too, Mac.” It was the last thing he said as her teasing fingers lined them up and he pressed slowly inside her wet heat.

The exquisite pleasure washed through him. Tight, scorching walls. Strong thighs wrapping his hips. Nails scraping down his back. Her moans in his ear as he slowly began to move, desperate to prolong the inevitable. Over her shoulder, he caught sight of his own eyes and marvelled at the wild look in them. The colour had darkened from bright sky blue to a deeper almost cobalt colour. A high flush marred his cheeks, his hair was a mess, and sweat had begun to form on his brow as he picked up the pace of his thrusting hips.

He’d never watched himself have sex before. Turning his face into her throat, sucking on the rapidly beating pulse, Steve realized, not sex. Love. He’d never made love before and felt a little guilty for taking her like an animal against the wall.

“Fuck! Steve!” she cried out, breath heaving in time with his deep, hard thrusts.

Apparently, she didn’t mind, and he let his brain turn off so the animalist side could take over and closed his teeth in her throat. “I am, baby. What do you need?” He could feel the strain in her muscles as she struggled to find her second peak.

“I…” He lifted his head, slowing just slightly in his pace when he noticed the red on her face darken.

Embarrassment. She was embarrassed by what she was going to ask, and it intrigued him all the more. “What. Do. You. Need. Mac?” he asked, punctuating each word with a hard thrust.

“I want to… watch,” she whispered and set him grinning.

Growling a nearly feral sound of excitement, he pulled out, dropped her feet to the floor, and had her turned to face the mirror. “Hands on the barre, baby.” When she complied, bending slightly, causing her back to sway and her ass to lift into the air, Steve drew his hands down her spine. “Yeah, just like that.” Gripping her hips, he plunged back inside, thrusting deep in long, languid strokes of his cock. “That do it for you, _Mackenzie_?”

Her eyes flew to his in the mirror, her mouth open and panting, little mewls of pleasure spilling out. She was unable to do anything but nod before her eyes closed on a deliciously vigorous thrust. “No way, doll. Don’t you close those whiskey sin eyes. You wanted to watch, so watch.”

Skimming his hands around her waist, he drew them up her abdomen to pluck and tweak her nipples, pulling on the red berries when she moaned. Leaning his chest to her back, Steve shortened his thrust, giving quick hard grunts as tight walls fluttered even harder. Against her ear, he murmured, “You like that, don’t you? Spread your legs, baby. Can you see it? My cock thrusting up inside your sweet pussy?” His hand dropped to her core and began a swift circle of her tiny jewel. “You going to come for me, my ballerina? Next time I do this with you, you going to leave the shoes on?” A shudder wracked her, and she moaned heatedly, a rush of liquid fire suddenly coating his cock. “Dirty talk makes you hot, doesn’t it?”

Her eyes connected with his and she nodded again, face flushed and glistening with exertion. Gently he pulled his hand from her core and when she whimpered, her tightening sheath and fluttering walls a wonderful kind of torture, Steve murmured, “Come for me, Mac,” against her ear and lightly slapped her clit. Her eyes went wide, unseeing, when she screamed her release to the ceiling. And when her body started to clench and milk his, he was helpless but to follow, groaning out her name, three hard thrust saw him emptying himself out inside this beautiful woman.

Wrapping an arm at her waist, Steven held them both on their feet by sheer force of will as his legs shook nearly as bad as hers. “Okay… okay… wow…” he groaned softly, feeling the slight aftershocks shake her body and tighten around his still semi-hard cock.

“You can say that again,” Mac murmured, her smile pleased but her voice exhausted.

A slightly proud grin shot over Steve’s face as he drew slowly away. “Why don’t we continue this somewhere soft and horizontal?”

“Why, Captain!” Mac gasped in mock outrage, “Are you suggesting I _sleep_ with you?”

Chuckling, Steve pulled up his pants. “You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?” Looking for his shirt, he spotted it on the floor and went to retrieve it. Appearing comfortable in her nudity, Mac followed and stole his shirt from him to tug over her head. It was long enough to cover her ass and most of her thighs and gave Steve a secret little thrill.

“Are you just figuring that out now, Cap? I thought you were smarter than that.” Mac snickered, turning to quickly set the room to rights, and gathered up her things before following him out the door.

“Guess I’ll have to learn how to be more observant. Maybe I can practice with you?” Steve asked coyly.

“Practice… how?” she asked warily.

Leaning down to kiss her softly on the lips, Steve whispered, “By observing and cataloging every _single_ spot on your body that makes you make that soft kitten sound. It’s the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever heard.” She made a sound close to that one and made him chuckle. “Or… you could just let me draw you in the nude, baby. I’m sure I’d get lost of practice _observing_ you that way.”

A quiet exhale had him grinning when she murmured, “Whatever you say, Cap.”

Chuckling softly, he scooped her into his arms. “Then let’s get these lessons started, my secret ballerina.” They were both grinning like fools as they headed for his room, but neither noticed the smirk on the man who’s innocent comment had started it all.

Unable to sleep, Clint was brooding in the rafters as Cap wandered through with a scandalously attired Mac, headed for the team’s private quarters. Grinning to himself, the archer nodded slowly. ‘ _About damn time.’  
_

**_-The End -_ **


End file.
